My sporting lessons

“Hurry up, and form a queue for, we are about to conduct a sports competition for you,”. Even before the head-mistress could finish, excited and vibrant faces started pouring in from places hidden from the eye. Like a contingent of ants, dragging on in a perfect rhythm, the children obediently yet hesitantly complied with the instructions. There was a twinkle in their eyes, a blissful radiance on their faces, and an air of mischievousness surrounding them. There were no brow-lines, no frowns and to amuse them, my friend was imitating a clown. Abound with energy, buzzing like bees, humming to their hearts content. They appeared to be far removed from the pain, pain which we had associated with them. Their faces bore a curious look, perhaps they were amazed to see us standing like statues, unwilling to join them in their fun and frolic. But we were too carried away to emote, the only visible sign of life within us was a smile of sadness spread on our faces.

The Head-mistress’ roar had barely subsided, when a group of boys escaped, to partake their own actions, hurling themselves towards the multitude of joy-rides and swings on offer. There was a desire to get there first, while helping your friends along the way. No malice, no deceit. You come first, you go first.

Meanwhile a group of girls were honing their badminton skills, though the absence of a net did play a part in prolonging the rallies.”You are watching the zonal badminton champions,” beamed the head-mistress, a feeling of pride and elation having engulfed her. And why wouldn’t it, for her saplings had blossomed into sturdy trees bearing fruits. “I hope, you won’t mind officiating the events, will you”? asked the head-mistress. “We will be glad to do so”, we replied in unison, having clearly forgotten about the manuscripts we had brought with us and the time constraint on hand.

It was 15th August. Independence Day. An important day. A national holiday. A day where our passion is re-ignited, our resolve is strengthened and we feel rejuvenated and reinvigorated. There is an urge to do something good, good for the society, serve our nation and its people on this day. That is how we got here in the first place, for we had decided to visit this orphanage and teach the children some valuable ideals. But being the sports fanatics we were, the offer was to good to refuse and we decided to “let the games begin”.

First up we had volley-ball, and as per the norm the ladies got us under way. Their was an impressive exchange of shots, though again the glaring absence of the net was quite clearly felt. We were cheering and egging on both teams, to give it the best they could. One player in particular caught our eye. She had a short-frame, coupled with a lanky appearance which aided in her swift movement and cat-like reflexes. She was extremely skinny, but ‘boy oh boy’, she could pack a punch.

The sweltering sun was heavily bearing down on us, clearly acting as a hindrance to correct officiating. All three of us were on a different page, luckily for us the players did not create an outrage.

“I think we should donate a net,” was all I could mutter before something startled us. The play had come to a halt, and the girls were taking of their dupattas. We thought that they might have been acting as an hindrance to proper play, but were amazed to see an act of complete ingenuity, for the girls had created a dupatta-chain and were now planning to use it as a pseudo-net! Besides this net comprising of a wide array of colours, glistening in the sun, presented a stark contrast to the usual dull white one. Besides the knots on this net showed a coming together of humanity, representing a sense of togetherness , rather than acting as a divide between two foes. The play resumed, the cheers returned, the game become more engrossing and thankfully officiating a lot less taxing! But in reality, I was feeling ashamed of my transgressions while at play, on seeing the truthfulness and good-will on show. There was no infighting, no hurling of accusations, no disputes, and no fake calls. There was a feeling of let bygones be bygones, and let the game roll on.

In the end there had to be winner and a loser, but the whole viewing experience had been enriched by the innocence and commendable spirit of the players. During the break, the headmistress enlightened us on the running of the institution. “We have to keep them focused, for if allowed they could play all day.” Suddenly a boy ran past us at a frantic pace, hurling dust all around and receiving a scolding from the head-mistress.

After the girls had all the fun, it was time for the boys to start their run, something which they would never shun.They chirruped here and there, but to avoid any mistakes they had to take some care. It seemed bragging rights were up for grabs, and they were ready to battle it out in the mud and sand.

The surroundings was complimenting their spirit perfectly. There was a rawness in their approach, there was no fear of a reproach. They were brimming with energy, just like the hot-springs rising from the rocks, if only someone could channelise this fountain, the fountain which could easily fill up the drying sporting reservoir of our nation. There were quite a few falls, but someone besides you was always there to lend a helping hand, and arrest the pall. While their never-say-die attitude was spot on.

After the match all enmity was forgotten, the barriers were dissolved and hand in hand they started to walk. While the winners were being felicitated, and the runners-up were having their sweet-tooth cravings satiated, I was clearly feeling alienated. Alienation brought about by my actions, actions in the midst of my sporting battles. I have always had this difficulty in distinguishing an enemy from and opponent, resulting in a sense of hatred and bitterness towards the side opposition when I am losing, an inability to let go of my vanity on being defeated, in the process losing out on the fun, and losing out on a potential friends that I could have made.

It was time to click photographs, and then say our “good-byes”, with our scriptures off-course which reminded me of the irony of the whole situation. I had come to tutor these children, but had been tutored to instead. Some important lessons had been learned and some inhibitions had been shed, only their medium of instruction-sports had made learning a joy to behold.

P.S: I did not post any pictures, because the imagery in my mind is so vivid that no photograph would do justice to it.